a secret which I have never told a soul
by shesasurvivor
Summary: Katniss has survived her last Reaping, and made it through the end of her school years, when a mysterious letter arrives declaring concealed feelings for her. But who wrote the letter? (I think we all know who wrote the letter.) Canon divergent, "it would have happened anyway" type fic.


**A/N:** I've been hard at work compared to the past year! On my Tumblr, I received an anonymous request to write Everlark with a secret admirer and last dance. This is what I came up with!

Title comes from the following quote:

_"In the bottom of my heart lies a secret which I have never told a soul in the world. There is an image of this person who is dearest to me and closer than anything else."_ \- Melanie Rock

* * *

The letter arrived the morning after my last Reaping. It was stuffed in the corner of our front stoop. I might have missed it, except the tip of the folded parchment just caught my eye as I was returning from hunting.

"What's that?" Prim's question pierces my thoughts as I wander into our small house. Startled, I glance up, not really sure I want to answer.

"Umm… just a letter," I mumble. It's not convincing, but it's all I can come up with.

Neither Prim or my mother say anything, but I can see by the looks on their faces that they don't believe me. But they don't push the matter, and I don't offer any more details.

But the letter eats away at me for the rest of the day. So when we've all done to bed that night, and I can tell by the sound of my mother's breathing that she's drifted off to sleep, I decide to tell Prim about it after all. I turn on my side to face her, hoping she's still awake. She must hear me, know I want to talk, because a split second later, she's on her side facing me as well.

"Prim," I tell her, "The letter I got today… "I trail off, too embarrassed to admit what it was about.

She gives me an encouraging look. This isn't the first secret I've shared with my sister like this, and there probably isn't anywhere else in the world that I feel safer to talk about something like this.

"It… it said it was from a secret admirer," I push through the confession.

Prim's face lights up immediately. "Really?"

I nod, feeling how warm my cheeks are.

"Who do you think it's from?"

"I don't know," I tell her.

"It has to be from Gale."

"Gale?" I ask, thrown for a loop. "Why would it be from him?"

"Come on, Katniss," she laughs. "Surely, you've seen how he looks at you?"

"What? No, there's nothing like that between us," I say immediately. "Besides, he was out hunting with me all morning. When would he have put it there?"

"Before you came outside this morning," she says.

"No. We meet outside the fence," I tell her, even though I'm pretty sure she already knows this and has only conveniently forgotten.

"He delivered it on his way up then, or maybe last night. Or maybe he got one of his brothers to do it for him," she says.

I shake my head, feeling adamant. "I really don't think it's him. It isn't like him."

"True," she admits. "Well, who else is a possibility?"

"No one," I say. "I don't know anyone else."

She gives me a skeptical look. "You really don't know anyone else outside our family and Gale's?"

"Not like that," I say defensively, feeling flustered.

"Well, it's a secret admirer. It's not someone who's comfortable telling you how they feel. It makes sense if you don't know who it is."

"Well whoever it is, we're not going to figure it out tonight," I say, effectively ending the conversation. I roll over and fall asleep.

Over the week, several more letters arrive, each confessing they've admired me for ages, and have been trying to work up the courage to talk to me for years. Soon, they'll reveal who they are.

"I guess that rules Gale out," Prim says. "If it's someone who's been too afraid to talk to you."

"And Darius," I murmur. Prim looks at me, shocked, and immediately I blush, realizing what I've said.

"You think…?"

"He flirts with everyone," I say quickly. And it's the truth. But as he tugged at my braid while I was trading at the Hob earlier this week, the thought did cross my mind.

"Well, who could it be, then?" Prim wonders out loud.

I don't answer. There is one person, but… no, it couldn't be. Not him.

"It's probably just a joke. We should forget about it," I say curtly. I crumple the latest letter in my hands and throw it away as I leave the house.

Friday night is the Graduation Ball, a special dance they throw for students who have finished their last year of school. It's also unofficially a celebration for those of us who have survived all of our Reapings.

It's also the day that the last letter arrives.

Prim reads it over my shoulder just as I'm reading it myself. She practically lets out a squeal of excitement over its words.

"You're going to find out tonight! Katniss, it's so romantic!"

"I guess," I say, feeling uncomfortable.

"You aren't excited?" She looks disappointed.

"It's probably just a joke," I say, shifting in my seat.

"No, it won't be," she insists.

I can't help smiling at my little sister's optimism. But who would be sending me secret love letters in earnest? I've never been particularly friendly to anyone at school. No one there would think anything more of me except to think that I'm odd.

It makes me feel uneasy, but I decide to shove the whole thing out of mind as my mother pours a bath for me and lays out one of her dresses for me from her old days in the apothecary shop. The same blue dress I wore to my Reaping when I was 16 years old. She does my hair in the same elaborate braids, and then Prim walks with me to town.

"Are you nervous?" She asks.

"About what?" I ask, knowing full well what she's referring to.

"You know," she says.

I'm quiet for a moment. "Maybe a little," I admit.

"Don't be. Besides, if it is a joke - and I don't think it is - the letter said it would be during the last dance. You can leave if you aren't happy."

That's a good point and one that does make me feel a little better. I give my sister a hug goodbye because we've reached the school, take a deep breath, and go inside.

Music plays in the gym. Everyone from my grade is there, looking just like they do on Reaping days. Only this time, there's a sense of relief over the whole thing. I soak it in, letting it put me at ease. Maybe I don't have many friends here, but at least I can relax that I've survived. I find Madge, my only friend here, and sit with her for the duration of the dance.

"You look nervous," she says to me half-way through the night. "Is something wrong?"

"N- no." It's unconvincing.

"We've made it through," she says. "Isn't that enough to make you want to celebrate?"

"It's not that," I say, and then I give in and tell her about the letters. When I'm done, she actually looks impressed.

"Do you have any idea who it is?" She asks.

I shake my head. "No."

She looks around the room. "I guess time will tell."

The night goes on. The dance winds down. The last dance will be coming next. "Maybe we should get out of here," I tell Madge.

"Don't be afraid," she tells me, trying to hide a grin.

"But what if it's… "I stop, not wanting to voice my suspicion to her.

"What?" She asks, her voice kind.

"A joke," I say. "What if it's just someone playing a prank?"

Madge looks across the room. I follow her gaze and land on a group of blonde kids from town. "I don't think it is," she tells me.

"Why? Do you know something?" The way she's looking at that group makes me sure she does.

"Nope," she shakes her head. "I'm as curious as you are."

At last, they announce that it's time for the final song. Couples holding hands head to the dance floor for one of the slower songs. Madge nudges me with her elbow.

"Now's the time. Aren't you going?"

My mouth has gone dry. I'm nervous. "Uh-uh."

Madge is on her feet and pulling me up to mine. "Don't be afraid. Get out there." She practically shoves me towards the floor.

I gape at the sight of the couples slowly swaying together in front of me. I'm frozen to the spot. Behind me is safety. But if I turn back now, I'll never hear the end of it. Everyone will think I'm afraid, and I can't let them believe that. So with small, slow steps, I head forward.

As if in a dream, I take in the sight of the dancers only a few feet away from my elbows. I can feel their body heat, smell the musky cologne some of the wealthier kids are wearing. But everyone is taken. There are no secret admirers here. Just as I suspected.

I awaken from the dream. What am I even doing here? It's a joke. Of course, it's a joke, the last prank on the weird Seam girl that no one likes. I turn to head back to Madge, but I'm stopped in my tracks.

The baker's son stands only a couple feet away from me. He startles when I turn, and his eyes widen. I'm frozen to the spot, and so, it seems, is he.

"Excuse me," I mutter after what seems like an eternity, and push past him. But as I do, I hear him call after me.

"Katniss, wait!"

It's the fact that he even knows my name that makes me stop. We've only had one interaction before, many years ago, but we never even spoke to each other when it happened. I didn't think he even knew who I was, besides a poor girl from the Seam to take pity on. I turn to face him.

He looks lost. "Um… my name's Peeta."

"I know."

Surprise registers in his blue eyes. Maybe he didn't realize that I knew his name, either.

"Oh… "Am I imagining things? Or do his cheeks look pink? Probably because it's so warm in this room all of a sudden. "Um. Would- would you like to dance?"

I scowl. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not- it's not pity." Now panic registers in those eyes. "I… I mean it. I'd like to dance with you. Of course, we don't have to if you don't want to," he adds quickly.

It would be rude for me to refuse. I may have grown up in the Seam, but my mother still taught me manners. "Okay," I say quietly.

He still looks surprised, but now it's a pleasant sort. We walk to each other, and Peeta Mellark takes me in his arms as we begin the dance. He's so steady, just like a rock.

"Thank you for the bread." It's out before I even know what I'm saying. He looks just as surprised as I feel.

"What?"

"From when we were kids," I drop my gaze. "Look, if this is because I never thanked you- "

"What? No, not at all. I don't care about that," he rushes to tell me.

"Then what do you want to dance for?"

Peeta Mellark truly looks lost now. "Because I wanted to. Didn't you get the… "He doesn't finish. I feel his arms stiffen around me. And suddenly it all clicks in place.

"You?" I gasp.

He stops dancing. Drops his arms from around me. "I'm sorry," he says. "You clearly don't feel the same way." He turns to leave, but I grab his arm before he's entirely out of reach. To do what, exactly? I've never wanted this. I don't want to get married or have children. It's never been my plan.

But I also don't want to lose the Boy with the Bread.

"I- don't know- how I feel," I say haltingly, and realize it's not entirely untrue. Peeta looks at me like he's trying to decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but he must decide it's at least promising because he turns back to me.

"Do you still want to dance?" He asks.

"Why not?" I say and feel the corners of my mouth quirk up in a smile. He cradles me in his steady arms, and we learn to dance as one.


End file.
